The Fiery Star-Crossed Lovers of District Twelve: Prequel
by iluvephramy
Summary: Katniss lies awake, unable to sleep as she struggles with the reality of being a tribute. Enter Haymitch to provide his own unique brand of comfort and answer the question of what exactly happened the night before Peeta declared his love! Warning: mild angst/fluff!


**A/N: I was re-reading 'The Fiery Star-Crossed Lovers of District Twelve' and realised LankySundown was right all along – it did need a prequel (I bow to your fantastic judgement)! Consequently, this one-shot is dedicated to Lanks! Hope you like it!**

**Apologies for the discrepancies in writing style, I tried to make it as close as I could but obviously it's been a while since I wrote the last one. Also this is an entirely original piece, apart from the characters etc which all belong to the awesome Suzanne Collins. **

**All that's left to say is – really hope everyone likes this fic and if you get a chance, please post me a review (criticism more than welcome!). **

**Much love and peace to you all this summer, Em x**

**The Fiery Star-Crossed Lovers from District Twelve: Prequel**

Katniss tossed restlessly in her fancy Capitol bed, unable to sleep despite the luxurious nature of her surroundings. It had been a life-changing few days, which had seen her travel from the squalid conditions of her home in District Twelve to the excessive wealth of Panem's political heart, under the guise of being a prized tribute. Yet, despite the exhaustion, neither her mind nor body could rest as she forced herself to remain constantly vigilant. She must remember that she could not trust any of the people around her; no matter how genuine they appeared, simply because they were in the Hunger Games business. Her life, and consequently those of her mother and sister, was on the line and the subsequent pressure to win was crippling. It was really no surprise that she could not sleep.

Groaning in frustration, she wrapped the covers around her naked frame, slide languidly out of bed and walked casually to the window. The cityscape before her was eerily unfamiliar, but Katniss supposed that the scene may have been a comfort to those tributes from the wealthier districts such as Cato and Clove. Nevertheless to her, it just emphasised the distance between the country's government and its people. Those men, women and children who resided in the Capital really had no idea what life was like outside its confines, yet they still demanded tributes from districts they contentedly did nothing for. The injustice of the situation angered her, increasing her restlessness. She needed to get out of this room, away from this view. Impulsively she snatched up a silk robe that had been provided for her, slipping it on as she made her way to her bedroom door. Opening the cold metal door slowly, she quietly peaked out. She doubted anyone would be awake at this late hour, so she moved stealthily, ensuring not to wake Peeta or her team.

Exiting their twelfth floor apartment, Katniss realised that the entire building had been plunged into darkness during the twilight hours. Conveniently for her, she was used to moving around in the pitch blackness and the security lights that read 'roof access' made in no challenge at all. Evidently, as she was constantly being told, she was not a captive but an honoured guest. Strange how being sent to your death sure didn't inspire faith in those words!

Despite her adamant refusal to be thankful for any liberty the Capitol proffered, a wave of gratitude filled her body as the door's handle gave way under her fingers, allowing her the exit this monstrosity of a building via a short staircase and equally pliable outer door. Upon opening the heavy external door, freezing night air whipped her face, making her feel more alive than she had since that morning on the hill with Gale before the reaping. It felt good to be outside amongst the elements and Katniss breathed deeply. The air did not have the clear, crisp quality of home, but it was still a blessed relief compared to the warmth of inside. She closed her eyes, lost in her thoughts of home. If she focused hard enough, she could probably even hear Prim's laughter carried to her on the wind...

God how she long to be back amongst them; arguing with her mother, hunting with Gale and laughing with Prim. It was strange the extent to which a new perspective on life could make you realise how good those difficult times had, in reality, been.

"It won't help you know," a deep, masculine baritone interrupted her reverie. Katniss's eyes snapped open, but she did not turn around. She did not need to, because she knew who was there. There was only one person who would dare to interrupt her so rudely. _Well there was only one person in this godforsaken place_, she thought, as Gale's cheeky smile came to mind.

"I don't know what you mean," she murmured defiantly, wrapping her arms tightly around her body, suddenly very aware of the flimsy robe she was wearing infront of this very male man.

Haymitch approached her, "thinking of them. The people back home that you have left behind. You must forget them, because any memories of them will cripple you in the arena." The cold sincerity of his words hit Katniss like a bullet to the heart. They were spoken so calmly, with such a lack of emotion that those few words made her realise that victory in the games was purely a different form of loss. She watched him cautiously as he starred up at the night's sky, seemingly awed by its size as his eyes unhurriedly took in the splendour of God's work.

"What's it like in there?" She asked quietly, both wanting and not-wanting to hear the truth.

"Hell," he said simply, glancing over at her momentarily before returning his ice-blue eyes to the sky. Katniss thought he was finished speaking, but he continued, his voice breaking at the words tumbled uncontrollably from his lips. "Children die..far younger than you – those that never have a single chance of survival...you will kill them and see their faces at they writher in agony...screaming for families they'll never see...You'll even relish their deaths...because...because everyone of their...murders...isn't yours..." A single tear slipped from his eye, and she had the courtesy to glance away, at the buildings bellow, at the stars, at the ground beneath her feet; at anything to prevent herself from seeing how broken this strong man really was.

After a lengthy comfortable silence, she finally spoke again in hushed tones, "I was terrified that was going to happen to my sister. She is so gentle and sweet, much too kind for this world."

"So you volunteered," Haymitch said sombrely.

"The arena destroys people like Prim..."

"Sweetheart, the arena destroys everyone" he smiled quizzically. "But certain...darker...people do stand a greater chance of success than others."

Katniss glanced at him, as she automatically replied "like you."

"Like you too," he said pointedly, starring into her hazel eyes unwaveringly. She breathed deeply, nervously. She was unsure whether her uncharacteristic hesitation was caused by the significance of his words or the intimate nature of the way he delivered them. This situation was new to her in so many ways. "You have to survive, Katniss...I want you to survive..."

She was frozen to the spot, her mind unable to form logical thought, her tongue unable to utter words so she stood there, mute. But her heart was beating so strongly she felt sure it would break out of her chest. She couldn't quite believe that he cared so deeply for her.

Haymitch's rough hands reached out for her bare, lower arms, grasping them gently as he desperately tried to make her understand. "I'm not asking you for anything Katniss. Despite all your bullshit, you are so very young, and well, I am...old. I just need you to be alright, okay?"

Despite the equal levels of shock and happiness that flooded her body, she nodded, innately understanding his meaning and intention. She comprehended his words so easily because it was as if they were her own. She did not love him; she couldn't, because the games had ensured that she wasn't free to think so sentimentally. However, there was a gravity that drew her to him, despite the futility of their situation. It was this gut feeling that made her long for the opportunity to be encircled in his arms one day, revelling in the throngs of shared passion. "Haymitch-"

"Ssssh," he murmured quietly, his index finger reaching up and gently putting pressure on her full, luscious lips. "I've already said too much..." She watched him watch her, his eyes focused intently on his finger on her lips. Wordlessly she pressed her lips together, kissing his finger. "God, you're so..."

His breath grew ragged and he withdrew his finger in order to drag his hand through his muddy blond hair. He backed away from her as he struggled to contain his desire to tell her everything, to whisper sweet nothings to her under the vast night sky. "This is not the time Katniss. There is no need to rush. I will wait for as long as you need. Just survive..." His hand brushed her cheek, his knuckles caressing her gently as he took one final look into her expression filled eyes.

Then he was gone, his usual swagger somewhat diminished as he left without another word. She starred at the spot that he had vacated, trying to fathom exactly what had just happened. Of course she had hoped that he cared for her as his tribute, but she had never dreamed that her romantic affections would be returned with equal vigour. The cold intensity of the night air bit into Katniss in a way that she had not noticed earlier. Already she missed the fiery heat every encounter with him brought into her life. He was unlike any man she had ever met before; he challenged her at every turn to fight harder, yet his support was the very thing that enabled her to do so. Smiling ruefully, she thought that maybe she would not think of home in the arena, maybe she would think of this man, of his strength, his determination and his cunning and channel him into her. Maybe this was the man she could finally trust to never leave.

Continued in 'The Fiery Star-Crossed Lovers of District Twelve'...


End file.
